


Just Bad Luck

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: By popular - and quite surprising, huh - demand, a sequel to Cornered. Eighteen confirmed kills… It was no one’s fault, just bad luck. (Unbeta'd)





	Just Bad Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Cornered](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12641505).

Jack wakes up groggy, aching all over but mostly feeling as if someone kicked him in the chest. Not to be overly dramatic but,  _Oww?!_ What the hell happened? It’s not until he tries to move and the dull pain turns into a flaring agony that he remembers.

_The abandoned hospital. The terrorists. Mac…!_

His eyes fly open and he looks around frantically. A hospital, at the military base from the look of it. How did he get here? How long has it been? Where is–

Jack turns his head to the right and lets out a breath of relief, his racing heart slowing down a little; it’s a wonder that half the personnel didn’t rush in, fearing he suffered a heart attack. He relaxes because there, in the very uncomfortable looking chair by his bed, is Mac, curled up on himself and fast asleep. Keeping watch over him, his bodyguard!  _Oh, the irony._

Turning onto his side very carefully, mindful of the pain in his chest - he got shot, that much he remembers now, vaguely - Jack gives Mac the once over. The kid looks  _terrible_. He’s bruised and scraped, there’s a big white gauzy patch on his forehead, his arm’s bandaged and the way he’s holding his ribs… Jack frowns, frustrated by his own inability to remember. He’ll have to ask, then.

“Mac,” Jack whispers. “Hey, Mac.”

Mac stirs, blinking slowly - then he jerks awake and sits up straight, immediately hissing in pain, one hand pressed against his ribcage. Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathes in and out slowly.

“Easy there, kiddo,” Jack chides gently. “Not a bad guy in sight, I promise.”

Bent over a little, Mac opens his eyes and gives Jack a pained smile. “Hey, Jack. How do you feel?” he asks a little hoarsely.

“Lousy? Confused? What happened?”

Mac reaches out and pats him on his knee, covered with a blanket. “You got shot, big guy.”

Jack twists his lips. “You don’t say. I mean afterwards. How did we get out?”

Shrugging, Mac looks away. “I carried you. Cage came for us with a chopper.”

Jack frowns. “And that’s why you look like something the cat dragged in? If I remember correctly, we had a bunch of baddies on our tail back there. Don’t tell me they just let us waltz out of there because they suddenly felt sorry for us.” His words might sound slightly sarcastic. Just a little.

But Mac doesn’t crack a smile like Jack expected him to. He doesn’t even roll his eyes. He keeps staring to the side, studiously avoiding Jack’s curious eyes, and his jaw is clenched when he responds, “I took care of them.”

And why doesn’t Jack like the sound of that? But before he can asks, there’s a soft knock on the door and Corporal Something-Or-Other walks in and salutes. Jack lifts an eyebrow. Neither he nor Mac have been saluted to for a very long time now.

“Mr. MacGyver, sir,” the corporal says, “Captain Lewis needs to debrief you on” –he shoots a surreptitious look at Jack– “the  _incident_ at the hospital. If you could come with me now, sir?”

Jack narrows his eyes. Too many  _sirs_  for his liking.  _What’s going on here?_

“Of course, corporal,” Mac answers and there’s…  _something_ in his voice. Something Jack likes even less than the soldier’s squirming.

“Mac?” Jack asks when Mac gets up. “Are we in trouble or something?” Because for once, he’s absolutely positive that they did not screw up. It was bad intel that landed them in the middle of a terrorist base, it wasn’t their fault.

Mac smiles down at him - it’s a very bland smile, not exactly reassuring - and pats him on the leg again. “We are in no trouble, Jack. I promise. Everything’s fine.”

“Then why are you acting so weird?” Jack inquires suspiciously.

Mac doesn’t answer, though. He just pats Jack on the leg again - seriously, Jack’s starting to feel like the family’s favorite pet - and tells him to rest, that he’ll be back soon. And with that he leaves.

_Now, what the hell?!_

* * *

Jack doesn’t think he’ll sleep. He’s too worried, too wired, too  _achy_. But in the end, exhaustion does claim him and the next time he wakes, it’s dark outside. And Cage’s there, sitting in Mac’s chair. She’s reading on her phone, maybe some report, maybe porn, who knows.

“Where’s Mac?” he croaks out with a worried frown. He seems to do that a lot today,  _frown_.

Cage looks up and offers him a glass of water with a thick straw to sip from. He accepts gratefully; God, he’s  _thirsty_.

“Mac’s being debriefed,” Cage answers when she sets the glass back down on the nightstand again.

“Still?” Jack wonders, his concern giving way to anxiety. He knows that debriefs tend to be long; every person who didn’t give a damn about you before suddenly wants to know your life story, that’s how it goes. But this, this is not normal.

“Sam, what is going on here?” he asks her and it must be the use of her name that must make her realize he’s being very serious here.

Cage leans forward and props her elbows on her knees. “Mac’s in no trouble, I promise you that, you don’t have to worry.”

Well, since  _that_ wasn’t his question, if Mac was in trouble or not, her response makes him even  _more_ anxious. It also tells him that  _something_ happened and that  _something_ had  _something_ to do with Mac. Who apparently did  _something_. Most likely at that damn hospital, based on that young corporal’s words.

“How  _exactly_ did Mac get us out?” Jack demands. “And no more bullshitting, Cage. I want a clear answer. What did he do? Because apparently, everyone’s walking on tiptoes around the subject. Someone better tell me what happened before I start throwing punches.”

Cage stares at him for a long while as if weighing the seriousness of his threat. Oh, he’s serious, very serious. His sense of humor ends the moment Mac’s in any way threatened.

“To get you to safety, Mac did what he had to,” Cage replies truthfully in the end. “A recon team sent in to clear out the hospital reported eighteen confirmed kills and who knows how many injured who got away. As you can imagine, the news spread fast and Mac became quite…  _famous_ around these parts. You can also imagine what he thinks of that,” she adds quietly.

_Jesus. Jesus Christ!_

Jack sinks back into his pillows and stares at the ceiling for a while. Eighteen confirmed kills. Mac who only ever wanted to help people and save lives. Sure, killing was sometimes inevitable, it came with the job but…  _eighteen people_! That’s not just a kill anymore, that’s a  _slaughter_.  _Jesus!_

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jack rubs his face. This never should’ve happened. Killing was his job.  _He_ was  _Mac’s_ bodyguard, not the other way around. Jack never should’ve let it come to that. He should’ve been… faster, better, more thorough… more  _something_!

As if reading his thoughts, Cage says kindly, “Jack, this wasn’t your fault. You got  _shot_ saving Mac’s life. There was nothing more you could’ve done.”

He glances at her angrily. “You can’t know that! You weren’t there!” He doesn’t mean it as a rebuke and fortunately, she doesn’t take it that way.

“No, I wasn’t,” she allows. “But Mac was and he’s been pretty adamant about that, that you did all you could. And whatever happened back there, the people he had to kill…” Cage pauses. “He’s taking it hard but he  _will_ get over it, Jack, eventually. He’ll handle it. But your death, that I’m not sure if he would’ve been able to handle.”

* * *

Jack’s sitting up in his bed, playing solitaire on his cellphone, when Mac finally comes back. Cage left some half an hour ago because it was getting really late but Jack decided to stay up and wait for the kid to return.

“You look like hell warmed over, buddy,” Jack comments gently as he sets his phone aside.

“Yeah, well,” Mac replies as he slumps down in his chair with an exhausted sigh. He drops his head against the back and closes his eyes. “It’s been one of those days, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I  _know_ ,” Jack replies.

The tone of his voice makes Mac freeze. He rolls his head to the left and looks at Jack. “You know.” 

Jack nods, his throat thick. “And I’m so,  _so_ sorry, kid. It was all my fault.”

Mac frowns, puzzled. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It was,” Jack protests vehemently. “I’m your security detail! We never should’ve been there in the first place. I should’ve checked and double checked and  _triple_ checked that intel! I got lazy over the last few years, too reliant on outside info. If I had done my job properly, you wouldn’t have had to–!”

“Jack!” Mac interrupts him, leaning forward intently. “None of it was  _your_ fault. Or” –he takes a deep, shuddery breath– “or  _mine_. From what I understand, it was simply a miscommunication between the agencies, some info didn’t arrive where it was supposed to in time. It was simply bad luck. These things happen, you know they do. This wasn’t the first time.”

“But never before did you have to do something like  _that_!” Jack snaps angrily. 

Seeing Mac flinch, he kicks himself for his words and for his tone. “I’m sorry,” he adds quickly. “I’m not angry, especially not with you, Mac. I’m… frustrated and-and  _sad_. Because I’ve never wanted you to have to go through something like that. Because I know you, I know how this will haunt you, and it doesn’t matter that those people were terrorists who would’ve gladly shot us to pieces. They were human beings and it’s killing you, I can see that.”

And he does, he really does. Because Mac looks pale and haggard in a way that has nothing to do with physical injuries. He looks  _broken_. And if Jack could take it all away, the pain and the guilt, if he could carry the burden himself, he would, in a heartbeat.

Mac rubs his nose with the back of his hand and drops his eyes. “And yet, I would do it again if it meant saving your life, Jack,” he whispers.

_Jesus Christ!_

Rolling onto his side again, Jack reaches out and rests his hand on Mac’s head, startling him. When Mac looks up, Jack tousles his hair affectionately and with a pained little smile he says, “Yeah, and that truly scares me, son.”

And in that moment, Jack swears to himself he’ll never, ever allow it to happen again,  _anything_ like that. If he has any say in that matter, Mac will never have to touch a gun again. Well, maybe just to take it apart and build some mad-hatter do-hickey. That Jack will accept. But he’ll make sure that Mac never has to kill again, not on his watch.


End file.
